


STICKS & STONES

by Hyacinth (Fflurion), Sirelian (Fflurion)



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU - Freeform, ANBU root - Freeform, Brotherly Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Clan Screentime, Gen, Kaguya Clan Massacre, Konohagakure | Hidden Leaf Village, Male OC - Freeform, Male SI, OC-centric, OC/SI reincarnation fic, Orochimaru (Naruto)-centric, Otogakure - Freeform, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22505554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fflurion/pseuds/Hyacinth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fflurion/pseuds/Sirelian
Summary: He suspected that if he hadn’t known the truth, he would have been taken in like every other strangely devoted follower of Orochimaru. He reminded himself that he had the advantage here. He knew his game and he knew how good he was at it. Therefore he would have to play it better. Male OC/SI 【INFINITE HIATUS】
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. 【序幕】

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zhoujo10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhoujo10/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaguya Asahi suspected that if he hadn't known the truth, he would have been taken in like every other strangely devoted follower of Orochimaru. He reminded himself that he had the advantage here. After all, he knew his game and he knew just how good he was at it. Therefore, he would just have to play it better. OC/SI reincarnation fic

_

The air of the compound feels tense, like something aside from the heavy and prevalent mist hangs above it. It is stifling, dangerous, waiting to descend upon those existing there and devour them. It leaves those living in its midst on edge, ready to snap at any moment. 

It is the kind of environment Orochimaru delights in. 

The people are so malleable, and it is simple for him to twist words, to charm them into his little halcyon play; the play of his own devising and his own grand plan*. They are puppets dancing before him, unaware of their own strings.

The thought makes him smile - he won’t have long to wait now. 

He is perched upon a hill that overlooks the clan compounds, a simple genjutsu cast to keep them from noticing him. 

It’s a perfect vantage point to watch the proceedings, and sound carries eerily well in the mist, which has yet to dissipate despite the watery sunlight. Just an hour before, the sounds of children screaming in terror and pain and of men laughing and shouting had graced his ears. Forty-five minutes after, a woman had returned from a trip into a neighboring village to buy medical supplies for her ailing mother. 

Now, he hears her scream, the sound echoing across the hills and through the scarce, twisted trees. 

He licks his lips, delighted that things are falling so neatly into place already. He listens as she wails, then cries out in pain. There are the sounds of a scuffle he can just barely hear by enhancing his senses further with chakra, and he can hear the woman’s broken voice. 

Pleading . 

Weak.

A silence settles. Orochimaru does not fret, though. He already knows the outcome, and he knows that he has won. All he has left to do is wait for the pawn to move.

The sun crosses the sky, sinking below the horizon and taking it’s meagre warmth along with it. 

The moon takes her place in the star studded sky, full and brilliant, the light reflecting off the roiling mist below; transforming the area into something more dreamlike and silvery, and he silently thinks, something a lot more in line with what would happen here tonight.*

Orochimaru’s breath hangs in the air, billowing out to disappear into the rest of the mist. He likes to imagine that his breath adds to the mist’s potency, and he hopes that it turns the dreamlike place into a nightmarish one. 

One that will not vanish even when the sun shines again the next morning. 

When the moon has reached her peak, a silhouette appears, slinking along the walls outside the compound. Orochimaru watches it’s progress, takes note of the unusual bulk to what should be a slight frame and the weight that bows its shoulders. His smile returns, sly and cruel in anticipation for what would come next.*

Orochimaru follows silently, at enough of a distance that he is sure he will not be noticed until the time is right. The timing must be impeccable - the situation must be handled delicately and with just the right words, the right amount of persuasion and precision.*

He has been waiting for months, planning since he heard of this clan’s fascinating and powerful kekkei genkai, and pursuing these particular subjects after he learned of their unique and unusual heritage. 

This chance would not be sabotaged by the leer of impatience.

The moment comes after thirty minutes of continuous running when, without warning, the figure he has been following collapses. There is a moment of silence, the heavy thump of knees hitting the ground ringing through the mist and then fading away.

A serpent waits in the dark, for the right moment to strike. 

The loud, horrible wailing fills the air, echoing throughout the night. It is the sound of a broken woman with nothing left, a widow who lost her most loved, and most importantly, it is music to his ears. 

Orochimaru grinned as he steps forward into a beam of moonlight as it breaks through the clouds. 

“My child, whatever could be causing you so much pain?” He asks, voice smooth and quiet, yet sharp enough to cut through the horrendous noise that the woman is making.

She cuts herself off with a choked sound, twisting to face him with a stilted, jerky movement. Her eyes are enormous, dark and glassy, as if reflecting the night around them. She opens her mouth, gasps, chokes on her words and tears. 

Orochimaru waits while she gathers herself enough to answer. 

“Orochimaru-sama, you were right.” She says, the words barely louder than a whisper, her voice hoarse and as broken as her spirit. “I thought... that they were beginning to understand. I thought they were going to let me try to heal my mother, and that my sons would be safe with her. But they...while I was gone, they-”

She cuts herself off with a moan and slumps down, her arms wrapping tightly around herself, one hand twisted behind her to caress one of the large scrolls secured to her back. Orochimaru eyes them greedily and he has to hide his grin that wants to stretch across his face. Instead, he adopts a mournful expression. 

“Oh, dear child, I told you that your clansmen would turn on you and yours. There was too much fear inside them. With your grandmother carrying the curse, and your children’s blood being impure… it was only a matter of time before they came for all of them.” 

She moans again, a pitiful sound. It grates on his nerves, and he resists the urge to scowl at the weakness she shows. After all, as a member of the famously bloodthirsty Kaguya clan, it seems out of place for her to crumble under something as mundane as the death of two half-breed children. 

“Sentiment.” he thinks bemusedly.

Desire, fury, triumph; These are things he can understand, feelings that burn hot beneath his skin. But the sorts of things that this woman is feeling, he’s not sure he will ever truly experience. He has no care to.

Still, it works out in his favour. If she were not so weak then she would have burned the bodies and been done with it. Instead, she has left the village in order to give them a proper burial and in turn, has given Orochimaru the chance he needs. Her face is open, full of pain and something like desperation, and he knows before he even offers that she will accept his proposal. Still, he kneels before her, looking her steadily in the face as he speaks.

“I believe that I can bring them back to you, if you will allow me to help.”

She stares at him, frozen, and a tear slips down her cheek, barely visible in the moonlight. He studies her as she processes his words, taking in the shape of her face and the curve of her neck, her large dark eyes and smooth black hair. She is a lovely woman, and he finds himself wondering idly if her children will share her beauty. It would be something of a bonus, if his plans pan out as he would like. 

There is something undeniably appealing about having a strong, beautiful body available to house his soul, after all. Not only that, but if his experiments go as he hopes, they will also be hosts with rare and powerful kekkei genkai at his disposal. 

“How can you help? What do you want in return?” She asks, voice shaking, but a hint of steel beneath it. She is suspicious, and rightly so. It seems that she is not just the trembling mouse she appears to be, but that will not stop her from being his prey. 

He smiles, reaching out a hand to gently cup her cheek. “I have been developing a powerful jutsu, to pull the souls of the newly deceased back to their bodies. It is still in the experimental stages, but there is a good chance it will work. We must act quickly if we are to save your children, though.” 

She stares at him a moment longer, her eyes wet, but suddenly brimming with hope. The only sign of her wariness is the slight crease between her brows. Her fingers twitch against the scroll again, one last caress before she brings her hands down to rest in her lap. She meets his gaze unflinchingly. 

“What do you want in return, Orochimaru-sama?”

He thinks, briefly, of simply killing her there and then and taking the scrolls that her children’s corpses are sealed in from her lifeless body. It would be simple to snap her neck from this position, just a twist of the wrist. His thumb strokes carefully over the smooth skin of her cheek, the tip of his pinky pressed against the line of her jaw. He wonders if she even realises how simple it would be for him to end her life like this. 

But then his mind sidles to the thought as to whether she’d even care at this point.

He still needs information from her anyway; she is the last known relative of the long deceased Shikotsumyaku users, and the only one with a definitive answer on whether or not her children’s father is apart of the clan Orochimaru suspects he is. She therefore holds information that he is unlikely to find elsewhere. 

So instead, he grits his teeth and smiles harder. 

“I simply ask that you leave them in my care for a while afterwards so that I can study the effects and make sure that there are no flaws with my technique.”

Her expression melts into one of open relief. It might be enough to fool a lesser shinobi, but Orochimaru can still see the despondent desperation.

People with that look barely uphold their side of the deal, and he knows what her plan is; it’s disappointingly simple, that’s what it is. 

She will let him return her children to her, and then she will steal them away in the dead of night and flee to somewhere she believes is out of his reach. The thought is almost laughable. His smile grows ever wider, but does not call her out on her intended deceit. 

Instead, he offers her a hand up. 

“Are you prepared to go, then? My nearest base is half a day’s travel from here, and we must hurry is we are to bring your children back to you.” 

She nods once, firm and determined, and together they set off. 

_


	2. 【章一】

It takes ten hours and seven shinobi to perform the reanimation jutsu. 

It is still imperfect, and from what he has learned from previous experiments, it will only work on very young children who have been dead less than 36 hours. Even then, none of them has survived longer than two weeks after being brought back, their bodies empty shells that waste away slowly without a soul to sustain them. Still, even if he only has their living bodies for a week, it would be more than enough time to learn many things from these children and to learn more of the effects of two unique bloodlines joining together.

Orochimaru has been tweaking the process with each experiment, making it better, perfecting it. It is not the immortality or the knowledge that he craves, but it is a step forward. It fascinates and thrills him, to hold this kind of power, to hold life as well as death in the palm of his hand. 

It takes the chakra of five jounin level shinobi to reach out and return life to the two tiny forms laying at the centre of the intricate seal. There are two medics crouched beside them, hands glowing green as they work to heal what ended the children’s lives and to reverse the decomposition that has already begun within the bodies. It is gruelling work, and he has lost more than one strong shinobi to the process already. Still, he forges ahead and the shinobi loyal to him, selected from his village (Otogakure) followed diligently in his wake. After all, the lives of pawns are a small price to pay in the pursuit of knowledge and immortality. 

They are nearing the final stretch when one of the tiny bodies jolts upwards with a horrible noise, something caught between a scream and a gasp, full of immense pain and the terror of death. The other one is only seconds behind, and the two cries seem to harmonize and intensify, the sound echoing off the walls of the chamber where he conducts various large-scale jutsu techniques. It reverberates and distorts, unlike anything any of the shinobi in the room have ever heard. The medics crouched by their sides not intending to stop their work. 

Orochimaru moves forward, eyes hungry. Nothing like this has ever happened before, which means that something is different this time around. Three of the shinobi before him flinch back, eyes wide, and the barrier that has been erected around the seal falters.

Orochimaru promises to kill them for it later.

It is then that the mother, who had been watching the process silently and demurely, rushes forwards. 

His frown deepens.

He had spoken with her earlier as Kabuto had examined the bodies and gathered as much medical history and clan secrets as possible. 

Orochimaru had only agreed to allow her to be present for the process after she had sworn to not interfere; in addition to that, she sternly told him that she would reveal everything she knew but only on the condition that she would be able to be there while her children were brought back from the realm whence they came and went.

Now, she pushes past the powerful shinobi that stand in her way as if they are nothing, as if they are not willing and able to kill her with a single blow. 

It is almost admirable.

As she rushes into the circle, her foot smudges a single character and Orochimaru snarls. This idiotic little girl has just ruined months of work with a single step, plans that he will be hard-pressed to recreate with subjects and bloodlines that will be near impossible to find again. 

For that, he silently swears that her death will be slow and excruciating, a thousand times worse than whatever agony she felt upon discovering her only children’s bodies. 

He is already labelling this experiment as a loss, with the seal ruined and fading and the concentration lost so close to the end when something catches his eye. 

There is a strange light swimming through the air above their heads, ethereal and barely noticeable. 

He watches it as it moves in erratic circles, tighter and tighter until it converges on the two screaming figures in the centre of the seal. The single trickle of light breaks off into two distinct shapes, two distinct colours of the like he has never seen before and will later find he cannot quite recall, and then they fall upon the two screaming corpses. 

A sudden silence falls as the children go limp, both heads matted with sweat. The jutsu ends, and his men either collapse where they stand or else fall back to rest against the walls, hands hovering at their weapons pouches. The medics stay where they are until the last of the glow fades away, then move back when the mother approaches. 

There is a long moment of heavy quiet, filled only by the controlled breathing of trained fighters readying themselves for whatever comes next. Not even the mother dares to speak as she kneels by her children, hands fluttering helplessly. 

Then, with two almighty, rasping gasps that echo eerily off the walls, both of the bodies arch upwards, bending at horrific, painful angles, mouths and eyes wide open. Their mother lets out a quiet cry of her own, reaching out to grasp at them and to run soothing hands over their figures in an attempt to stop the awful contorting. There are tears running down her cheeks, dripping onto the children’s chests and necks. 

“Please,” she whispers. “Please come back to me.” 

There is no movement for a long moment, the room as quiet and still as the grave that was robbed of the children’s bodies. Then slowly, painfully, the bodies begin to unbend, limbs relaxing and backs coming to rest upon the ground. A sob spills from between the woman’s lips. One of the children stirs, eyes fluttering, a quiet moan pulled from between dry lips. 

The mother sobs again and Orochimaru moves forward with silent steps, close enough that he can easily hear every whispered word the woman breathes. She is cradling both of the children’s heads in her lap, hands moving gently through their hair and over their faces. The child who has awoken is mumbling, the words slurred so badly he can’t make out anything coherent. Suddenly, the woman falls silent, her lips pursing as she gazes into her child’s face. 

“His eyes are different.” She murmurs, no real emotion behind the words. She tore her eyes away from the two children to look up at Orochimaru, head tilted to the side. “Why have his eyes changed colour, Orochimaru-sama?” 

He kneels beside them, taking the child’s face into his own hands, wanting to see for himself just what this experiment has wrought. 

The child gazes somewhere beyond him, eyes unfocused as he continues his incoherent mumbling. His tiny hand finds the sleeve of his yukata and he holds it tight, the fabric bunching in his fist. 

Carefully, he tilts the child’s face this way and that, squinting down at the eyes, which are now as green as Fire Country leaves, instead of the black they had been before. He can see no other changes, though.

He hums thoughtfully, then leans over to examine the second child, peeling one eyelid back. The child moans quietly, eye-rolling, but it is easy to see the ocean blue colour, bright despite the relative darkness of the room. 

A smirk pulls at the corners of his mouth. 

_ How interesting. _

“Kabuto, would you kindly take these children to the medical bay for their checkups?” Orochimaru calls, his voice soft and lilting, yet seeming to echo throughout the large room. 

Kabuto appears immediately, along with four other medic-nins to transport them. As the mother rises to follow, Orochimaru grabs her wrist and smiles. 

“While they are doing that, please follow me. I would like to further discuss your clan’s medical history, and how that may affect your children and their future.”

Her eyes flash, steely behind her tears, but she nods. Together they leave the room. The shinobi are already cleaning up. She pauses outside the door, watching as her children are carted in the opposite direction. He pretends to be oblivious to the way she takes careful note of which room they disappear into and of the medics that linger outside the door.

She will be making her move sooner than later.

His lips tempted to stretch out into a maniacal grin but compose himself as he turns away.

After another brief instant of hesitation, she follows after him, each of her steps echoing noisily along the corridor. He is very curious indeed, to see how her plans will play out. After all, despite being a mediocre shinobi at best, she is still a Kaguya clan member. She would not harm the children that had just been returned to her, but the bloodlust of her bloodline would surely take over. He would get to witness some entertainment, and he would get the prize of two young children with the bloodlines of two powerful clans to mold and experiment on to his heart’s content. 

It is a win-win scenario. 

He looks forward to seeing how much blood the woman will leave in her wake before he kills her.


	3. 【章二】

Waking up was agony. 

It felt like every cell in his body had been set aflame and like his head was seconds away from imploding. As he opened his eyes, everything seemed to spin dangerously and his stomach heaved as though he were about to throw up. Bile burned in the back of his throat, but nothing made its way up. 

He moaned.

It was only then that he noticed the blurry face looming above him. He blinked, trying to focus, but everything was too far away. He wondered where his glasses had gone.

_ (But no, wait. That wasn’t right. He didn’t wear glasses. Even if he had needed them, there was no way his mama would be able to afford any.) _ __

He tried again to focus, blinking rapidly, eyes darting even when he tried to keep them still. Tendrils of dark hair brushed against his cheek as he felt the shadow of a figure above him. When his eyes finally zero’ed in on the silhouette, the familiar features of her black eyes glistened back at him.

“M-Mom?! It  _ hurts! _ W-what’s going on? What happened?” He tried to say, but the words felt strange on his tongue. They came out slurred, mangled. He realized he wasn’t sure what language he was speaking. That was...unusual, to say the least.

Then it hit him; His mother was colorful and sturdy, not monochrome and fragile-looking. How could he have gotten that wrong?

He tried to pull away, to raise a hand, to do anything at all, but he couldn’t even manage to make a single finger twitch. The woman was crying, he realized. 

“What happened?” He tried to ask again, fear churning in his gut. After all, one didn’t wake up in pain like this with their mother ( _ no, no, it’s a stranger! _ ) crying over them. “Was there an accident? Why does it hurt so much?” Again, the words came out mangled and unrecognizable. 

His eyes clenched together, trying to recall what had happened before. 

It was just after midnight when he had gotten off work, late. He had been walking back home, passing by a gas station right off the main street. 

It had been quiet and warm, a breeze tugging at his hair, and the smell of gasoline had hung heavy in the air. It was peaceful, despite the late hour, and he had smiled at the woman who had been filling his car up as he passed. There was the glow of headlights as another car had driven by. He had been lost in thought, going over the finances for the month and wondering how much his next paycheck would be.

He had heard the screech of brakes, then nothing.

But no, that wasn’t right, was it? 

The last thing he remembered was fear. The men had found them while they were playing in one of the training grounds. 

He had grabbed his brother’s hand and they had run for it, knowing that as soon as they got home their grandmother would protect them.

That they would be  _ safe. _

But the men were big, and they were fast, and they had fallen upon him and his brother and they had hit them and kicked them. 

Everything hurt, the taste of blood had filled his mouth, and there were bones breaking through his skin. He had looked at his brother and seen him lying there, blood beneath his head and one of his eyes gone. He was just about to cry out to ‘Jun’ when someone furiously kicked him in the face. He heard his nose crunch. Feeling no pain as he was still numb with adrenaline coursing through his nerves, his small disfigured body flew back, head banging on the gravel covered ground and then everything was gone. 

Blinking away the sudden vision he tried to tell the woman what had happened, both last memories mixing up and the story coming out as jumbled as his speech. He felt cool hands against his face, and his vision whirled as a new face came into view. This one was as pale as any ghost, made up of sharp angles and glowing eyes. 

“Am I dead?”

There was no response. 

He turned to the woman ( _ mama? _ ) and spoke. He couldn’t make it out. His voice was rasping, yet somehow soothing. He didn’t fight the urge to close his eyes and to let himself be carried away by sleep. 

A moment that somehow also felt like a thousand years passed, and suddenly the world around him jolted. Eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed flew open. He felt hands on him, gentle yet methodical and uncaring as they maneuvered and then lifted him. 

There were people dressed all in white, and he felt himself relaxing just a little. These people were medics--doctors. They would help and they would make the horrible, mind-numbing pain go away. If he could have, he would have cried from the sheer rush of relief he felt at the thought. Instead, he let himself drift as he was moved. It was so much easier, all of a sudden.

The next time he woke up, he found that it was easier to move. His nerves still felt like they were all on fire, and it seemed like there was an immense pressure building up just under his skin. He shuddered, took a deep breath, and tried again to move. 

His fingers all moved, though not much more than twitches. He was able to wiggle his toes, shifting his weight ever so slightly to roll his hips and lift his legs. Everything felt distant and disconnected from him, but at least he knew for sure that he wasn’t paralyzed or something. 

Maybe just really drugged up? 

He managed to shift his head, letting it roll to the side without much control. The action made the room spin around him and he found lazy curses rolling from his lips along with a pained groan. He blinked slowly, squinted, and when the world came into focus he found himself face-to-face with something that made his heart pound harder and his skull feel like it was being split in two.

Lying across from him, just within his short range of sight, was his brother.

_ Ty- _ Jun-Ty _ -Jun- _ **brother** **_-brother-his brother, his little brotherbrotherbrother_ **

_ His brother.  _

He gasped, and the name didn’t matter right now, because that was his baby brother lying across from him. He was different, years younger, features foreign, but it was undeniably Ty. Yet it was also somehow just like he remembered his twin from before the villagers had chased them. He was pale and asleep, but unhurt. His heart seemed to swell, because Jun was okay! 

A choking noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, filled the room. It took a second for the boy to realize that he was the one making it. He didn’t bother trying to stop himself like he normally would, far too overwhelmed by emotion to worry about anyone seeing him cry. He wasn’t really sure what had happened, or how they were here, but they were both alive! 

At that moment, that was more than enough.

* * *

The world was running strangely around him. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he opened his eyes again. This time, he wasn’t in quite as much pain, which probably meant that whatever drugs he was on were probably working. 

This time, there was someone standing over him. He was too exhausted to even feel surprised by it.

He squinted up at them, trying to make out features besides silver hair and pale skin. They were dressed in dark clothes, which...was that unusual for a doctor or nurse? He hadn’t really spent a lot of time in hospitals before. 

“Ah, I see that you’re awake. How are you feeling?” 

His voice was soft and kind. But there was something off, like an echo, or two voices overlayed over one another. He could understand him perfectly but there was a part of his mind that was insisting that he couldn’t speak the same language he was. He swallowed a few times, trying to bring feeling back into his tongue before he spoke.

“I’m...I hurt. A lot. But it’s feeling better.”

His own voice was pitched higher than he was used to, higher than it had been since he’d hit puberty. He frowned and cleared his throat. 

The smudge that was the man’s mouth curved up into a smile. “Good, I’m very glad to hear that. Can you tell me your name?” 

“I’m Kaguya Asahi, sir. And my brother is named Jun.” He answered, the names falling easily from his lips. As soon as he had said them, though, he had to pause and think, because no, his name was Milo and his brother was Ty. The man’s gentle voice snapped him back to reality.

“That’s very good, Asahi-kun. Can you tell me how you feel right now?”

He considered his words, rolling his thoughts around in his head like glass marbles in a jar. He felt like his mind was strangely breakable, and the thoughts inside it would be what shattered him. He wasn’t sure which voice inside his head would break first.

“I feel like everything is on fire. I’m dizzy and my head and everything else hurts, and it feels like there’s something moving under my skin.”

The words sounded strange to him. They rolled off his tongue easily, he had been speaking this language all his life, yet somehow they seemed to rebel within his own head like he was trying to listen in on a conversation in a foreign language. 

The man made a sympathetic noise, then reached forward to grasp his wrist, fingers pressed gently against his pulse point. He frowned. A distant part of him marvelled at how large his hand was compared to his own, but he was mostly concerned with the fact that he was grabbing a part of him that he was fairly certain needed to be in a cast. 

His hand moved to rest against his throat instead, his touch feather-light against his pulse. After a moment, he nodded and said, “Well, all of your vitals are checking out. You seem to be very healthy, all things considered.” He flashed him a reassuring smile. “The pain should go away soon, so don’t worry.”

“How’s my brother?”

“Oh, he seems to be doing fine. He hasn’t woken up yet, but that’s not really unusual.”

Asahi felt tears prick at his eyes as a smile stretched his cheeks and made his face burn from the movement. His voice cracked when he whispered, “I’m glad he’s alright.”

“Yes, you were both very lucky.” The man returned, his smile still in place. Something about it felt off. Asahi wondered if maybe they were dying after all, and he just didn’t know how to tell him. “Now, I have a few questions for you. Is that alright?” He waited until he had nodded his ascent before continuing.

“Has your mother ever spoken of your father?”

That was not the question he had been expecting. He had figured he would ask about medical history, or who to contact for them. Besides that, their parents were still together, so of course she talked about him. It didn’t make any sense to be asking that.

But maybe that wasn’t right. Asahi paused, brow crinkling as he tried to sift through memories. He had never met his father and had never really wanted to. He wasn’t sure where he had gotten the thought that he had a father.

The idea of his mind conjuring up false memories scared and confused him. He swallowed a few times, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat, and carefully considered. His mother had spoken of the mystery man who had sired them a few times, hadn’t she?

“Mama’s proud of who he is.” He began slowly, and the man shifted a little closer so he could hear his quiet voice. His blurred features came more into focus, and he was surprised to see how young he was. “He’s somebody strong and she said that she had wanted him to give her beautiful daughters but then he gave her strong sons instead. Me and Jun!”

The man nodded, smile never faltering, and the dim lights reflected off his glasses giving it an eerie shine to it. “Did she ever tell you what clan he was from, or what made him so strong?”

“She just said that my papa had a curse, just like my granny does, so he would be strong too.” He frowned. “But I never met him so I think that my mama is probably a lot stronger than him, because why else would he want to hide from her?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Hide? Why do you think he’s hiding from her?”

“Well, why else would he not come back? She must have been angry at him so he ran away and hid.” Here, he lowered his voice to a reverent whisper, as though afraid his mother would pop up any second. “My mama’s very scary when she’s angry.”

“Ah, I see. Is there anything else your mother has said about him?”

“I think she said he liked snow one time, but I wasn’t really listening,” Asahi admitted. 

“That does sound confusing.” He said in the tone of one humoring a child. Asahi frowned, thoughts swimming again. He’d used that same tone many times before, hadn’t he? 

“I have one more question for you; Have you or your brother ever shown any signs of having one of these...curses?” 

Asahi thought it over carefully, brow scrunching. Then, he shook his head, sending the room spinning once more.

This close, he could see the way the man’s mouth curved and the glint in his eyes. Asahi felt a shiver roll down his spine as the man’s hand dropped to rest gently on the crown of his head, messing his hair. “You did very good, Asahi-kun. Thank you for being so helpful.”

Asahi nodded, a little stunned; Was that really all he wanted to know? 

“Hey, mister medic? When will she come and see us?”

His smile remained firmly in place, but there was no warmth in his eyes as he said, “Your mother is very busy right now. You’ll see her later.”

“Oh. Why though? What’s she doing?”

“Don’t worry about it right now. You need your rest.” 

His hand suddenly felt pleasantly warm upon his brow, his headache dissipating under his touch. He nodded, eyelids suddenly heavy and his mind foggy with exhaustion. The man smiled as he turned to go. 

He was almost to the door when Asahi called out to him. 

“You never told me your name.”

He turned towards him again, and from that distance he couldn’t tell what sort of an expression he wore as he said, “You can call me Kabuto.”

And then he was gone. The room fell dark, and Asahi gladly surrendered to the urge to sleep away the pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG Thank you so much to my lovely boootiful editor: shuyasu10   
> Because holy SMOKES she lowkey kind of broke my lungs as I had to gasp for air from cackling so hard from her comments and suggestions smh ;D


	4. 【章三】

**A/N: Un-betaed, my precious lil Jo is working her ass off on editing it while I'm here too jittery and excited so therefore...this early post <3 srry JO**

**From here on in it starts getting darker and there's going to be more sensitive matter in coming chapters.**

**Warning: Panic attacks, torture, death, mental illness, etc.**

**Proceed with caution readers!**

**On a lighter note, please enjoy and let me know what you think!** ****

* * *

Asahi jolted awake as he was pulled out of bed. He cried out, only to have a hand pressed over his mouth. He stared up at the person who had grabbed him and it took him a second to realize that he was staring at his mother.

(It was his mother, wasn’t it?)

Slowly, the hand was removed, and his mother signaled for him to be quiet. Asahi nodded, though his eyes were wide with confusion and concern. The smile that he received in return filled him with dread; It was the same one that his mother had given them when she told them that their granny was sick but would get better soon, or when she promised them she’d get them a new puppy after the villagers killed their other one.

“Everything will be alright.” She promised, and there was something pinched and painful in her voice and expression. 

“Mama, what’s going on?” Asahi whispered, reaching out to grab his mother’s hand and squeezing it tight. 

“Nothing. We’re just going to be leaving soon.” She whispered back, fingers trembling as they tightened their grip around Asahi’s hand. Her smile grew just a little bit brighter, and Asahi let himself relax a little. “I was thinking we could leave the Compound, and maybe leave the Land of Water all together. How does the Land of Waterfalls sound to you? I hear it’s warm enough to go swimming all year round there.” 

A hand was clapped over his mouth once more as Asahi started to let out a whoop of excitement. Again, his mother gestured for him to be quiet. 

“Oops. Sorry, mama.” he mumbled, voice muffled under the soft hand that left his mouth stinging with the force of it. 

“It’s alright, baby. We’re going to leave now, but I need you to stay very  _ very _ quiet while we go, okay? Pretend you’re a shinobi on a special mission. Can you do that for me?”

Asahi nodded enthusiastically, and was pleased to find that his head didn’t hurt anymore. 

With a smile, his mother turned away, pulling her hand away from the boy’s grasp. With the loss of contact, Asahi swayed a little. The world around him seemed far too big. He leaned backwards to rest against the bed he had been on and was surprised to find that it was almost taller than he was. He couldn’t seem to recall if that was normal or not. 

His mother turned back around, with Jun balanced on one hip, and quickly swept Asahi up as well. The boy made a soft noise of surprise, throwing his arms around his mother’s neck and wrapping his legs around her waist. He was delighted to be picked up, but also confused. Wasn’t he far too heavy to be carried around like this? Across from him, he could only just see half his brother’s face, smooshed up against their mother’s shoulder, his eyes still closed. Still, the sight filled him with warmth.

“Your brother is still asleep, Asahi.” Their mother whispered as she moved towards the door, her footsteps silent. “I need you to make sure he doesn’t fall, and if anything happens, I want you to protect him. Do you understand?”

“What’s gonna happen?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. It’s going to be alright. I just need you to promise me you’ll take care of your brother, just in case.”

“I promise, mama.” He mumbled, reaching further to grasp at Jun’s shirt, hoping that if his brother fell, he’d be able to catch him that way. 

“Good. Now, I need you to close your eyes, and don’t open them until I tell you to.”

“Why?”

“It’s part of the game, baby. Just close your eyes for me. If you open them before I tell you you can, it will mess up the mission.” 

Asahi nodded, tightened his grip on Jun’s shirt, and buried his face in his mother’s shoulder, eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

There was the quiet swish of the door being opened, and he had to resist the urge to gag at the sudden overwhelming smell that hit him. The tang of iron hung heavy in the back of his throat, mixed in with the smell of feces and sweat. He knew this smell. After a second, he realized what it meant.

He had seen his Clansmen when they came back from battle, covered in blood and filling the streets of the clan compound with the same smell that fills his nose and mouth now. He shuddered, pressing his face closer, trying to block out the scent with his mother’s familiar one. She smelled more sour than usual, sweat dried on the collar of her shirt. Still, it was comforting and familiar, and it made it easier to ignore the fact that there were definitely dead bodies all around them.

Hiding his face in his mother’s shoulder, Asahi kept his eyes squeezed shut, and held on to Jun as tightly as he could manage. He trusted his mother to keep him safe and to know what’s best, but there was still something niggling at the back of his mind. Something about this seemed so strange, so wrong. It wasn’t just the dead bodies, or the way his mother seemed so on edge. It felt like there was something watching them, hanging over them the same way the mist once did, just waiting for a single misstep so that it could jump in and do something awful. 

He was used to the feeling, of course. He had dealt with it his whole life, coming from his fellow clansmen, the ones who felt that only pureblooded Kaguya clan members should have been allowed to stay in the compound. He had no doubt that his mother was able to feel it too, since he was often subjected to scathing comments and heated glares and the occasional outright fights over his decision to marry someone outside of the clan. He thinks that if his granny were here, she’d know just what to do. As someone who was cursed their whole lives, Asahi knew that his granny would probably be the best at sensing such bad things in the air and would know just how to take care of it. He had heard the things people whispered about the cursed members of the Kaguya clan, and how they weren’t to be associated with outside of battles.

Asahi had never said anything to his mother, of course; It was always obvious that she didn’t want them to know. He was young, but Asahi wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t deaf, so of course he could see the nasty looks and hear the mean comments, and every time his mother came home with another bruise and blood under her nails was more proof that their family were outliers within their own clan. The fact that their clansmen were more than happy to let granny die of disease was just frosting on the cake. 

The way they had attacked Jun and him had only served to prove that they would never belong. 

His fingers tightened further on his brother’s shirt. He still wasn’t really sure what had happened, and how it was that they were both okay. He had been so sure, while those men were chasing them and hurting them, that they would both die. He had  _ seen  _ the way his brother’s face had been mutilated and he had felt his own features smashed and kicked until he was sure that he should have been unrecognizable. 

That was probably what the people who had attacked them had been aiming for, anyways. They didn’t look exactly like their clansmen did, but they still shared many similarities. Those men had probably wanted to put an end to that.

Asahi realized he was trembling. Taking a deep breath, as quietly as he could, he tried to calm himself. He was being silly now. They were going to be alright, and they were going to leave and never return to the compound. Mama said so. Things were going to be better. He just had to believe that they would be.

He felt his mother’s hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly. Asahi smiled and nuzzled his face further into her shoulder, inhaling deeply again. He tried to ground himself to the moment, the familiar smell of his mother, of home, the feeling of Jun’s shirt, the way he was always so much warmer that Asahi himself was. Even now, he could feel the heat, like a sauna beneath his fingertips. It was comforting.

Things would be alright.

“We’re almost out,” His mother breathed, the sound barely reaching Asahi’s ears, despite how close he was. The promise and the hope was apparent in his mother’s quiet voice as she said, “We’re going to make it, baby. Don’t worry.” 

Then, of course, everything crumbled around them.

He heard his mother take a sharp intake of breath and felt as she stumbled, her nails suddenly digging into Asahi’s back. The boy muffled his whimper of pain, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ignore the surge of curiosity that made him want to open his eyes to find out what happened. Asahi tried to hold on tighter to both his mother and brother, trying to ignore the pain of his mother’s grip, of the fingernails digging through his shirt into his skin.

Then his mother stumbled again, lurching enough that Asahi was afraid he might be dropped. There was a second of silence. Everything was still. Then, without warning, they were moving, his mother running so fast that Asahi struggled to keep his grip. There was an odd shift in momentum that made his stomach twist, bile clawing its way up his throat. Asahi felt his mother’s few pieces of stray hair brush against his face, and his own heavy braid was hanging sideways. Were they on a wall? 

His mother screamed and Asahi’s blood ran cold at the sound. He felt as she stumbled and Asahi’s stomach lurched into his throat at the sudden sensation of weightlessness. 

They fell, and the boy couldn’t help the cry of pain as they hit the ground, his head bouncing off the stone floor. Blood filled his mouth as he bit his tongue and he sputtered, red globules dribbling down his chin and further staining his mother’s shirt. 

He opened his eyes.

“Mama, what’s happening?” 

“Asahi, take your brother and run.” She whispered, shifting Asahi off her hip and standing up, straight and tall. The boy stumbled backwards, blinking up at his mother with wide, scared eyes. Jun’s limp form was hoisted into his arms, and his knees almost buckled with the weight of his twin. 

“What do you mean? I-I thought we were going to all leave together!”

His mother whirled on him, dark eyes wild. Asahi flinched back, noticing for the first time the blood that was congealed along her hairline. “Shut up! Just do as I say! Take Jun and run!” 

Tears welled in the boy’s eyes, but he turned, struggling to pull his brother’s limp form along with him. His mother’s heavy breathing filled the hallway, rattling in Asahi’s head and filling him with panic. He had never heard his mother sound so scared, or so fierce. He struggled to move faster. 

“How noble,” a new voice said. A raspy laugh echoed throughout the space, and something about the sound was enough to raise goosebumps along Asahi’s flesh. 

“Don’t touch them! Leave us alone!” His mother cried. Asahi paused, turning to see who his mother was talking to, cradling Jun’s limp form to his chest. His brother was as warm as ever, and his breaths ghosted over Asahi’s neck, the only signs that he was even alive. 

A man stood in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a white yukata, only a bare shade lighter than his chalky skin, and his hair was a long ebony color. In the flickering shadows of the torchlight, his blurry form seemed ethereal and ghostlike to Asahi. He gaped as the man tutted, raising a hand to shake a finger in his mother’s direction. 

“I do believe we had a bargain, Kaguya-san.” His voice was quiet and mocking, yet it seemed to hold more weight and authority than anyone else Asahi had ever heard speak, even the clan head. “Do you know what the punishment is for breaking such a promise?” 

His mother was shaking. When she turned to look back at her sons, there were tears streaming down her cheeks. She smiled again, that same awful smile from before. “Jun. Asahi. Please, just-”

Blood splattered the walls. Asahi felt it hit his cheek, felt it on his chapped lips. He whimpered, and as he opened his mouth to cry out, the taste of iron danced across his tongue. He found, suddenly, that he didn’t have enough air left to scream.

His mother collapsed. Her head rolled towards them, coming to rest at her children’s feet. Her eyes were still open, and they seemed to be staring straight at Asahi. 

The boy scrambled backwards, pulling Jun along with him. His knees couldn’t seem to support his weight for more than a few steps and he collapsed, still cradling his brother close to him, making sure his head was turned away from the grisly sight. But he couldn’t look away from the dark eyes. Was that really his mama? 

( _ No, no it’s not.  _ Something inside of him whispered.  _ Mom’s back at home. She’s alright. This is a stranger, just a stranger. _ )

He was shaking. Shaking so badly he could barely keep a hold on his brother. The ghost-like man started approaching them, stepping over his mother’s body like it was nothing. His yukata trailed blood after him. Asahi couldn’t bring himself to look away from his mother’s dark, empty eyes. They were still wet with tears. 

The ghost knelt before him, and he took his chin in his hand, leaving behind a streak of blood. His head was jerked sharply, forcing his gaze away from the head and towards the ghost’s own face. He was smiling, golden eyes glowing in the dim light. There was something strangely familiar about his features, like something from a half remembered dream. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. His grin grew wider and he couldn’t seem to find the strength to scream.

“Do you wish to die today, child?” He asked, his voice soft, soothing, like he hadn’t just slaughtered his mother right in front of him. He couldn’t stop trembling. The ghost’s eyes slipped from his face, down towards Jun, who had only just begun to twitch in his lap. “Do you wish for your brother to die, perhaps?”

“No, please!” He gasped, pulling his brother closer, as though that could somehow protect them from this monster. His voice was shaking, barely audible as he sobbed, “Please, sir. Please don’t hurt him! I’ll do anything you want.” 

His eyes flickered back towards Asahi. He licked his lips. Asahi’s eyes welled with tears at last, thoughts that did not belong to a four year old running through his head, going through every outcome, each more hopeless and horrific than the last. He squeezed his brother who, at last, began to stir. 

The ghost’s eyes moved back towards Jun.

“I see the effects of the jutsu have finally begun to wear off.” He murmured. “He did not take to it as well as you did.”

He reached out, as if to take him. Asahi jerked back, glaring, his eyes wide and wild. 

“Don’t you touch him! Don’t you dare fucking touch him!” the words seemed to come unbidden, and as soon as he had screamed them, it struck him that this man could kill him just as easily as he had killed his mother. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Asahi’s hair, waiting for a blow that didn’t come. 

The ghost chuckled, and he heard the rustling of fabric as he stood. “Very well then, child. Come along. I trust that you understand that if you disobey me, you and your brother will both die.”

Asahi raised his head to stare at the man. He loomed above them, larger than life. He knew that he would not hesitate to kill them. He nodded and struggled to his feet. In his arms, Jun groaned, twisting in his grip and nearly causing Asahi to drop him. He opened his eyes, and somehow the sight of blue eyes staring up at him was at once utterly shocking and totally expected. 

(His eyes had been black before, hadn’t they? Or had they always been blue? Suddenly, he wasn’t sure anymore.)

“Don’t look, Jun. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, trying to blink away the tears that were further blurring his vision. His brother gazed up at him with bleary eyes, so trusting, unaware of the fact that their mother lay dead a mere meter away, unaware that his life was being bartered with at that very moment. Asahi’s lips trembled and his voice cracked as he whispered again, “Go back to sleep.” 

Jun reached up, his fingers tracing curiously through the blood on Asahi’s cheek. He looked perplexed, brow creased with confusion, eyes bright with worry. 

“You’re hurt.”

“No, it’s not mine. Please go back to sleep.  _ Please.” _

Jun’s eyelids seemed to be growing heavy again. He blinked a few times, eyes unfocused, before nodding. He turned to nuzzle further into his brother’s hold before going limp once more. Asahi heaved a sigh of relief, but the breath caught on a sob somewhere in his throat. He wanted to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks, but didn’t dare let go of his brother. 

The ghost had been watching the exchange, his face expressionless. “Come along now.” 

And he turned and began to walk down the hall, stepping carelessly over his mother once more. Asahi was suddenly painfully aware of his bare feet against the stone cold floor, and of the fact that the blood had already pooled across the width of the hall. 

He shifted Jun onto his back, bent double so that he wouldn’t fall. Taking a deep breath, he trudged forwards, skirting the wall to avoid having to step over his mother’s body. He did his best not to look, but couldn’t ignore the way that warm blood squished between his toes. He gagged, acid burning his throat and tears stinging his eyes. The smell of blood seemed overwhelming, filling his senses, making it impossible to breath. His legs were trembling from exertion already.

“Hurry,” the ghost snapped. 

He shuffled a little faster, trying to focus on the weight of Jun on his back, the feeling of his gentle breathing against his shoulder. He pretended that he wasn’t leaving a trail of bloody footsteps behind with his every step. He ignored everything around him besides the warmth of Jun at his back and the man leading him towards an uncertain fate. 

There was blood on the hem of his yukata.

Jerking his eyes up, he focused on the center of his back instead and letting his mind go blank. He allowed himself to drift, mechanically putting one foot in front of the other, pausing only to readjust Jun’s limp form to ensure he didn’t fall off. 

It was easier if he just allowed himself to not be truly present for this. 

He could cope. 

He had to.

He was so focused on feeling nothing that he didn’t notice that someone had come up behind him until he felt Jun being lifted from his back. 

Asahi screeched, whirling back to face the person, already lunging forward and prepared to attack with tooth and nail to get his brother back. His hands closed around the person’s wrist, nails drawing blood. Before he could do anything more, though, he was being lifted up, his arms pinned to his sides. 

He screamed again --a shrill, animalistic sound-- and thrashed wildly against the tight hold, trying to break free. He twisted, teeth gnashing as he attempted to find a way to hurt whoever it was that had taken his brother away. There was nothing he could do, though. His tiny body simply could not reach. 

Eventually, he went limp, chest heaving with each breath. In his peripheral he could see someone kneel down so they were on his level. 

“Asahi-kun.” A familiar voice said. “We’re not going to hurt your brother. Will you be calm if we put you down?” 

He turned his head to look at him. The doctor from earlier was staring at him intently, his grey eyes narrowed behind his round glasses.

A strand of hair fell across his face, obscuring his vision. He hoped it hid the tears in his eyes. Asahi blew it away before he nodded slowly, terrified out of his mind but not knowing what else to do. He was lowered to the ground and turned to face the person who had been holding him. It was a woman, tall and heavyset, dressed all in grey with a mask over her face. Next to her was another person, their face also covered, and in their arms was Jun. 

“I want my brother back. You can’t have him.” Asahi rasped, holding his arms out expectantly. The two people shared a look before the woman snorted, her cloth covering the bottom half of her face billowing. 

“He weighs as much as you do, kid. You could barely hold him.”

Asahi stomped one foot on the ground, feeling a scream building once more like some unbearable pressure filling his chest. He beat it down, doing his best to hide his fear and frustration with cold fury. “Give him back.  _ Now _ .”

“Asahi-kun, you’re tired and hurting. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” The doctor was speaking, his voice soft and soothing. 

(It was the voice of someone speaking to a child. Why did they keep using it on him?)

“It would be easier to allow someone else to carry Jun for a little while, don’t you think? We can get the two of you fed and you can take a bath, and after you’re done we can talk. How does that sound?”

Asahi didn’t take his eyes off his brother. “Are you going to kill us, too?”

“Of course not!” Kabuto declared, sounding so affronted it was laughable. 

“He killed our mama. Why not us?” 

Kabuto sighed, his eyes flickering over to where the ghost stood outside of Asahi’s line of sight. He looked strangely put upon. “Your mother broke a promise. She knew what the penalty was for that.”

Asahi said nothing. His hands were shaking. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kabuto reach for him. He flinched away, scared of the thought of him touching him. He turned to glare at him, finally breaking his gaze away from his brother in the process. Kabuto was smiling, and in the flickering torchlight it looked more menacing than comforting. He wondered vaguely if he realized that. 

He tore his gaze away, back towards Jun, only to find that he and the woman who had been holding him were both gone. He stared at the empty spot they had been, eyes wide and jaw slack as panic surged inside him. His breaths were coming faster, his heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might be about to burst from his chest. He couldn’t lose Jun. He just couldn’t.

He whirled, eyes darting along the hallway for any sign of them. There was nothing. No figures fading into the gloom or echoing footsteps. Not even a doorway they could have disappeared into. 

His eyes fell upon the ghost. He was smiling, wide and eerie, like his face might split open any second. His eyes were alight, amused by his panic. 

He was laughing at this situation, laughing at tearing his family apart and at the way he was breaking right in front of his eyes.

Something inside of him seemed to snap. 

Screaming, he charged the ghost. He didn’t move and his smile never faltered. If anything, he might have said it only grew wider. 

“GIVE HIM BACK TO ME! GIVE HIM BACK OR I’LL-I’LL-” 

He caught him by the hair, long fingers tangling in the black strands and jerking him back. He choked on his scream, neck bent back at a painful angle, but still he fought his way towards him. His short, chubby arms reached for him, his fingers curled into claws. He wanted, nothing more than anything, to bite and claw at him, to rip him to pieces and see his blood splattered across the walls. Just like he had done to his mother.

He bit back a pitiful sob, trying to turn it into another battle cry. It came out as a pathetic little moan instead. More tears slipped down his cheeks, making tracks through the blood and grime. His hands twisted through the air as he strained against his hold, hair coming free from his scalp in bloodied clumps. No matter how much he pulled, though, he never seemed to be able to get any closer to him. 

The ghost tutted, the way he had before he had killed his mother. Asahi gnashed his teeth in hopes of sinking them into the pale forearm that hovered above him, just out of reach. 

“If you do not calm down, child, I will order your brother to be killed immediately.” He hissed, and then chuckled when Asahi stilled immediately. “Very good. Even if you are a bastard child, I see you still carry the bloodlust of your clan.” 

“What do you want from me?” Asahi whispered, ignoring his words and the way they made his stomach twist with apprehension. The hand in his hair loosened its grip, allowing him to look at him. 

He regarded him thoughtfully before saying, “What I want from you is simple, Kaguya Asahi. Your bloodlines are unique, and I want to see how I can mold them, and by extension, you.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I can make you strong, child. You carry within you the potential for not one, but  _ two  _ kekkei genkai. I want them.” 

Asahi gaped at him. “You mean the curse?”

He scoffed, “It is no curse. Kekkei genkai are  _ gifts _ . Your fellow clansmen and the people of the Land of Water seem incapable of realizing that.” 

Asahi’s voice shook as he said, “I don’t want to be strong.”

“No? Then what  _ do _ you desire, child?”

“I just...I just want to protect Jun. I want to go home with him. I promised.” He sniffled, then scrubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears. He hated that this horrible man was seeing him crying like this. He didn’t want him to see his weakness. He didn’t deserve to have such an intimate part of him. 

“The only way to protect someone is to be strong. Don’t you remember what happened before you were brought here? What do you think your mother made a deal to do, exactly?” His eyes were bright and enrapturing, drawing her in, freezing him in place as he stared into them. 

“The...the others. They hurt us.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper. His head was spinning. 

“You died. Both of you.”

“No. That’s impossible….”

“I made it possible for you both to be revived, Asahi-kun.” His voice was soft, the rasping whisper oddly soothing despite the way that he said his name making him feel like he was crawling out of his own skin. “If you don’t become stronger, you won’t be able to protect him from anyone, and I won’t be able to bring you back a second time. I can make you stronger.”

Asahi swayed, lightheaded and barely able to catch his breath. He was shivering, arms clutched close to himself and fingers digging into his own stomach, breaking through the tender flesh there and creating crescent-shaped cuts. It was the only thing keeping his grounded inside of a skin that felt three sizes too small. He closed his eyes.

He shuddered again, a great thing that seemed to tear through his whole body and settle inside his bones. Then, with a great breath that filled his lungs to the point of painful, he willed himself to be calm. He could handle this. He could be strong now, and break down later. He had to. 

He met the ghost’s eyes once more, and watched as his expression curled into such a self-satisfied thing that he was almost tempted to say no just to spite him. He had won, though, and they both knew it.

“What do I have to do?”

* * *

Kabuto had taken him by the hand and led him away from the ghost. He had shown him to a room, quiet and cold, and had him sit down while he fetched him a tray of food and a wet cloth to scrub the blood from his face and hands with. He picked at his meal, trying to focus on Kabuto’s words instead of the bitter taste of the food and the churning in his gut as he told him what would be happening. 

“We’ll be running a few experimental procedures, just to see what effects being revived has had on you. After that, we’ll see if we can force the manifestation of a kekkei genkai.” He spoke with the slow, casual tone of someone who knew that their words wouldn’t be understood. He probably took pleasure in knowing the people he spoke to would feel inferior just listening to him, Asahi thought with a frown. 

He didn’t look up from his food as he mumbled, “How would you do that?” 

“Don’t worry about it, Asahi-kun. It won’t hurt at all.” 

Asahi didn’t bother to point out how obvious it was that he was lying. He simply nodded and asked, “What will happen to Jun?”

“He didn’t take to the procedure as well as you did, so he’ll be under observation for some time to ensure his condition doesn’t deteriorate. After that, if the experimentations are successful and you become stronger, he’ll have the choice of whether he’d like to go through the same process.” 

Asahi dragged his gaze away from the food to stare at Kabuto with dead, empty eyes. He matched the look easily, the hollow smile he wore never faltering. 

“Is there a...a thing I need to sign?” he asked, his frown growing as he realized for the first time how limited his vocabulary was. Pushing down his frustration, he continued, “If there is I want you to promise that if I don’t live through your...your  _ ex-per-i-ments _ , Jun won’t be experimented on, too. And that if he is, it would only be if he said it was okay. After all, you have me. You don’t need him too, do you?” 

Kabuto’s smile twisted further and a chill climbed Asahi’s spine. A strange feeling settled between his shoulder blades, an anxiety that felt like something had taken up residence under his skin there. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“There are no contracts to sign or agreements to make, Asahi-kun,” he said calmly, seemingly ignorant of his mounting horror. “We will take your requests into consideration, since you will be a considerable asset if this experiment works out in our favor. But the moment you took your first breath after the jutsu, you and your brother both became Orochimaru-sama’s property.” 

Asahi felt like his skull was splitting open. There was something inside his head, screaming  _ screaming _ **_screaming_ ** , but his body felt far away. “Jutsu? Orochi...maru…?” 

Pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he’d been looking at slotted together at last. Inside of him, something roared to life, a second consciousness fully forming at last and springing to the forefront of his mind. It was too late, though.

Kabuto’s phony smile never faltered as the world faded to black around him.

**Author's Note:**

> Ma beta reader and editor: shuyasu10


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